The Healer (23 page)

A whisper of light broke through the darkness around William’s heart. He stared at his brother, surprised by Edan’s maturity.

‘I should have asked your opinion sooner,’ William said as he stood, releasing Edan.

‘Aye. You should have.’

William heard the serious note in Edan’s tone. ‘I’ll not forget to ask your thoughts next time.’

‘I’ll ensure you don’t.’

William’s smile mirrored Edan’s. ‘There is something I need to do,’ he said as he walked to the door. Turning back, he said, ‘I’ll fetch Mary to keep you company. With your luck today, you may even best her at the board.’

‘Not likely.’ Edan’s groan was cut short as William closed the door.

He spared a glance at the stout oak door across the way. He’d been granted absolution from the living twice this day, and the woman sleeping within the sealed chamber had been the first. Her faith in him had formed a crack in the blackness surrounding his heart. Edan’s belief in him had widened the breach and doubled his hope.

But before he opened his heart to bask in full light, he had one last ghost to lay to rest. He needed absolution from the dead.

***

Lynelle pressed her ear to the wood and held her breath as she listened for further signs of life outside her room. The murmuring of voices had stopped and there were no more sounds of footsteps or latches clicking into place.

If Edan was ill or someone needed her skills, she was certain they would send for her. No one came.

Sighing, she turned and gazed about the chamber she’d spent the last few hours prowling around in. Everywhere she looked, William’s face seemed to take shape. She saw him in the pale stones forming the walls, in the low flames flickering in the hearth.

She made her way to the window, peered into the night and found a sense of space in the darkness. But the illusion soon faded and left her feeling confined, once again. Restlessness was new to her. She’d always bided her time, holding no expectations for anything.

But today things had changed.

Until she returned to Fenwick, it was pointless dwelling on what her father’s reaction would be. Helping Leslie deliver a healthy babe was something she prayed would transpire, but she had no command over when it would happen. Though on seeing Leslie today, looking more swollen than the previous day, Lynelle was sure the babe would come in a day or two.

Would William send her on her way the moment the infant drew its first breath?

Saint Jude. She was running out of time.

While the timing of certain matters was beyond her control, there was one outcome she could hasten, if she only had the courage.

Wrapping her arms about her middle, she closed her eyes and drew forth the memories and sensations evoked by William’s burning kiss. A shiver rippled through her, leaving a trail of gooseflesh dotting her skin and a deep yearning in her heart.

Resolve filled her. She had to know William’s thoughts, was desperate to know his feelings. She wanted...

She marched across the room, pulled the heavy door open and made her way to Edan’s chamber before her courage failed her. Fear of being rejected made her hesitate, her hand poised to knock. She could withstand rejection, but could she return to her room without knowing what William’s choice would be?

Her soft knock went unanswered. As she shifted from foot to foot, contemplating going back to her chamber or knocking again, the door suddenly opened, revealing Mary’s kind face.

‘What is it, lass?’

‘Nothing. I...how is Edan?’ she said, hoping the poor light in the corridor hid the flush warming her cheeks.

‘Edan is sleeping as all healthy young lads should. Especially since I allowed him to best me at draughts.’

Lynelle returned Mary’s smile with a nervous one of her own. ‘I am pleased to hear he is well.’

The door cracked open a fraction wider and Lynelle couldn’t stop from straining to see past Mary’s generous form and into the chamber.

Edan was alone.

Her attention fell on Mary, who appeared to be inspecting her thoroughly.

She peered down at her form and the fire in her cheeks spread down her neck and across her chest. After a busy day tending clansmen in the village and then in the healing room, she’d stripped off her clothes, washed, and welcomed the feel of the loose linen nightgown Keita had loaned her. Though it covered her decently from neck to toes, it was hardly attire fit to wear outside a bedchamber. Saints above, even her feet were bare.

‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Goodnight...’

‘Wait, lass.’

The urgency in Mary’s tone stilled Lynelle’s flight. She turned around to face her. ‘Is something amiss?’

Mary slipped out into the dim passageway, leaving the door ajar. A deep frown scored her forehead, as she peered down the length of the corridor toward the stairs. Lynelle looked in the same direction, a coldness seeping into her belly.

‘I worry for William,’ Mary whispered.

‘Why? Is he ill?’ Lynelle couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

‘Nae, but he looked troubled.’

‘Where is he?’ Lynelle’s mind raced. ‘Has he gone from the castle?’

‘Nae.’ Mary slowly shook her head. ‘He didn’t say where he was going, but I watched him climb the stairs.’

‘Are there chambers above?’

‘Only one,’ Mary said solemnly.

‘And?’ Lynelle’s heart pounded. ‘Please, Mary,’ she said clutching the woman’s arm.

‘‘Tis the laird’s chamber.’

Lynelle stepped back, struck dumb for a moment by such an ordinary answer. ‘Mary, William is laird. It seems natural for him to...’

‘You don’t understand, Lynelle. William hasn’t set foot there for the past half year.’

‘But why?’

‘William blames himself for not saving each of his family. The foolish man doesn’t think he deserves to be laird of Closeburn.’

Lynelle had sensed William’s misguided guilt. She’d even shared her thoughts on the subject with him this morn. But she hadn’t suspected the depths he’d gone to in denying his rightful place as laird. Why had he changed his mind about entering the chamber now?

‘William is a worthy laird, but deeply troubled.’ Mary’s expression was grim.

Lynelle searched the end of the passage as if the flickering shadows concealed the answers.

‘I would go to him myself,’ Mary said. ‘But I gave my word I’d stay with Edan.’

‘I’ll go.’ Clutching her nightgown with clammy hands, Lynelle headed toward the stairs.

WILLIAM stared at the imposing door before him, the iron-studded timber softened by the glow from the taper he held. Dread prickled his skin. He wanted to run, to leave the hurtful memories and the possibility of reliving them.

Inhaling deeply, he reached for the latch and pushed the door inward. Cool air rushed out to meet him, threatening to douse the candle and plunge him into darkness. He shielded the flame with one hand and waited until it settled. Then squaring his shoulders, he stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him.

A hint of disuse tinged the air. He willed his eyes to adjust to the room’s dim interior and battled to slow his racing pulse. The candle’s meagre light pushed back the shadows, offering a glimpse of the chamber’s secrets.

The ornate fireplace on the far wall stood still and silent. No fire danced in its belly, no flickering flames illuminated the intricate patterns he remembered adorning its sides and the thick, stone mantle above. He refused to look higher. Not yet.

His gaze skittered over numerous trunks stacked in the corner to his left. The timber screens failed to hide the solid reminders of those who’d come and gone. Behind the door stood the robe Mary visited daily to fetch William’s clothes, and the carved wooden chest filled with the rest of his belongings.

He turned to the massive bed located on the dais. The closed hangings hid the silky coverlet and matching pillows from sight, but couldn’t shut out the recollections of Roger’s last drawn breath, or those of his mother, Ilisa.

Stabbing pain sliced through his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if shuttering the view could somehow block the ache. Forgotten images crowded his mind.

Memories of Roger and William scrambling onto the high bed, their mother’s laughter filling the air as the brothers raced each other on hands and knees to reach her loving arms. The scent of roses as he sank into her hold, blinking across at Roger’s smiling face as they shared their mother’s loving embrace. The sound of their father’s booming voice, causing both their eyes to widen. A swift tightening of the arms around them before powerful hands snatched them up, throwing a son over each shoulder, a tickle and their childish laughter that continued long after they’d been shooed from the room.

Lord God how he missed them.

But knowing he could recall such memories, something he hadn’t acknowledged until now, eased the anguish twisting his heart.

He opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders twice before forcing his feet to cross the large square rug muffling his footsteps. Crouching low, he set alight the neat pile of logs he suspected had been awaiting his return. Strangely, his heart no longer raced.

The woody scent from the crackling fire swirled around him as he straightened and touched flame to the fat candles at each end of the stone mantle. Setting his taper down, he wiped damp palms over the plaid draping his hips and slowly looked up.

The framed portrait of his parents loomed above him. Roger Kirkpatrick’s deep brown eyes shone with pride and strength. William studied the square jaw and dark hair, physical traits he’d inherited. At twelve, the news of his father’s death in battle had stunned him, but his distress had paled in comparison to his mother’s quiet devastation.

Shifting his gaze to the face of the young woman beside his father, William’s chest constricted. Long brown hair, a shade lighter than his, fell about her slender shoulders. Her ever-present smile forever caught on canvas, dazzled brilliantly. It always had, even after his father’s death. But William had often noticed the slight trembling of her lips when she thought no one was looking. Her courage, right up until her death a year ago, humbled him even now.

Clutching the cold stone mantle, he searched his father’s gaze. Did he only imagine a sense of approval in the unblinking eyes?

Had he been torturing himself with self-blame and guilt for things he had no control over?

A log snapped in the grate, the sound breaking the hush of the chamber. As he stared into the growing flames, a sense of serenity seeped through him.

He clenched his fists against the contentment he was certain he shouldn’t be feeling and studied the trunks along the wall, waiting for the familiar ache to return.

Sadness loomed, but it was without blame, born only of grief for losing someone precious. Spinning about, he strode to the window and pulled back the shutter. A chill breeze swept in, cooling his face and neck. He inhaled the cold night air, but still the calming warmth invading his chest remained.

He gripped the sill and stared into star-studded darkness. The village slumbered beneath the moon’s light and as his eyes adjusted, he caught stray wisps of smoke rising from each cottage. Faces of the villagers and castle folk flashed through his head. His people. His knuckles strained as a surge of protectiveness swamped him.

Suddenly, Lynelle’s face appeared in his mind. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of being her protector. He groaned as his body tensed with the desire to do more than defend her.

He’d planned to seduce her slowly, had enjoyed every shiver his caresses had evoked, every quiver she’d tried to hide. He was sure she’d been unaware of the tiny breathless gasps his touch had inspired and his body had roared to life at her guileless reaction.

But he wasn’t prepared for her innocent seduction of him. Her methods had surprised him most.

Using words of kindness, she’d encouraged him to forgive himself. Her optimism had ignited a spark of hope in his cold heart. He’d known her for such a short time, but she seemed to understand him, perhaps better than he did himself.

He was here in this chamber tonight because of her.

He was in danger of falling under her spell.

Praise Saint Patrick she was secured in her room below, out of his reach. He didn’t have her gift for words, but he could show her how grateful he was with every inch of his body.

A knock startled him. Nae one aside from Mary knew he was here and he’d left her to watch over Edan.

Edan
.

He raced to the door and wrenched it inward. ‘What...?’ Any further words died on his tongue.

The fire blazing within the room brushed over the figure standing in the doorway. His gaze drifted down the linen-clad form to the bare toes hardly visible in the shadows, before skimming back up to the high neck of the nightgown. His hand clenched on the door, remembering what lay beneath her modest attire.

‘Edan...?’ The rasping voice didn’t sound like his own.

‘Is well. He sleeps and Mary still watches over him.’

The tension riding his shoulders eased as fear for his brother ebbed.

‘Are you all right?’ Concern coated her soft-spoken enquiry and the tip of her tongue licked her upper lip.

His body tightened at the memory of how sweet her mouth tasted.

‘Aye. There’s naught wrong with me.’ He should bid her good night and close the door. ‘Why are you here, Lynelle?’

‘Mary worried for you but didn’t like to leave Edan and –’

‘So you came in her stead,’ he interrupted.

‘Yes.’

‘Once again putting yourself in danger – ‘

‘Danger? I simply climbed the stairwell – ‘

‘In complete darkness.’ His voice deepened with his rising frustration. ‘Even I had the sense to carry a candle,’ he said, gesturing inside the room.

Her gaze followed the direction of his hand and her effort to see inside the chamber gave him a glimpse of her slender throat as she craned her neck.

His nostrils flared as her slight movement released the faint smell of lavender. Scaling the stairs in the dark wasn’t the only danger she faced as she stood before him, painted in shadows and firelight.